


High Hopes

by TariTheNurse



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action, Angst, Bad Puns, Childhood Trauma, F/M, Fear of Flying, Fluff, Humour, Love, Missions, Phobia, Sadness, Silly dares, Tower/Compound life, i can't remember, innuendos, smut?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2020-12-23 16:37:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21084479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TariTheNurse/pseuds/TariTheNurse
Summary: "It's not always easy to be an Avenger, but you love it. What can be even harder (and also more rewarding) is being Sam Wilson's girlfriend."





	1. High Hopes

”You’re kidding me, right?” Sam’s looking at you expectantly, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face and warm eyes twinkling. Clearly, your boyfriend’s not kidding you even if he’s having a great time.

From the other end of the lab, you can hear the sound of Bruce and Tony explaining something scientific to Scott (one more patiently than the other, of course). Regardless of how hard the men try, they’ll eventually have to get Peter to translate it into a way of talking and thinking that Scott has an easier time to relate to. The man’s smart, but his expertise lies elsewhere.

“What’s the matter, babe?” Coming over to your side of the object you’re looking at, Sam wraps an arm around your shoulder. “It’s harmless.”

In front of you on the table is…well…at the moment you’re sure it’s a death trap. Shiny metal buckles and rods, a flimsy-thin synthetic material covered in scales of…stretching a hand out, you let your fingertip slide over the foreign material. Yup. More metal. All of it is attached to a sort of box which you know houses and engine.

“Yeah, nah…there’s no way _that’s_ gonna happen,” you answer dryly, arms crossing in front of your chest and the weight on one foot.

For a second, Sam’s eyes dart to the sway of your hip, but he isn’t about to give up. “C’mon, honey!” He coos. “You’ll love it…aaaand it’ll get you to whoever you need to reach a lot faster.”

“I’m _not_ going to fly around in the middle of a _battle_! Forget it!” Your stubborn exclamation silences the men at the other end of the room for a moment and you try to keep a bit quieter as you continue. “Look I get you love to fly around, but _I_ was made for staying on the ground.”

“No one says you’d have to fly high,” Sam apologizes, “staying low but using that will still get you to where you want to go a lot faster.” Glancing at you, he almost look sad. “I just thought…last mission you were frustrated because you couldn’t get to Clint when he got hit while up on the cliffs, but with _this…_” he nudges at the artificial wings, “with this you could.”

He’s got a point (not that you like to admit it because all hell would break loose if he got one on you) but running from one injured person to the other on a battle field takes up precious time. Time you could spend on using your magic to get them on their feet and back in the game. _But flying?_ Heights isn’t a concept you’re fond of to begin with, and you can only manage it as long as you’ve got your feet firmly planted on something solid far away from the edge. You haven’t told bird-brain that, though.

Looking over at the man you adore, you’re met by premium puppy-eyes. _Gods, he’s even got the pouty lip going!_

“Alright! You can show me how it works and then I might, _might_, consider it.”

He cheers up immediately, pulling you in for a hug and a kiss. “You won’t regret it, babe. I’ll make it worth your while.”

You see the wink he sends you. _Well then…it might really be worth it then._


	2. Blue Skies

The sun is shining from a clear blue sky, but in the shade of the tree and with the gentle breeze playing with your hair the temperature is just perfect. Tilting your head (and as a consequence your upper body a bit) to get the image of Sam’s face turned the right way up you’re met by his dazzling and peculiarly innocent smile.

“C’mon, babe, it’s just a few words,” he cajoles, voice dripping with honey.

It’ll take more to convince you. Instead of giving in to his sweet temptation, you scout the surroundings for anyone passing by. No one. Higher up in the tree a bird is watching the two people below, unsure whether to protest at their existence or to ignore them. The funny, little hops releases a leaf from the animal’s perch and the green foliage drifts by you face, zigzagging before finding rest by Sam’s feet.

Stooping to pick it up, Sam patiently waits for you.

Your head is feeling warmer and you can feel the rush of blood in your ears. _Damnit! _“You can’t be serious, Sam…”

“Oh, but I _am_, babe,” he releases the leaf with a nonchalant flick of the fingers, “if you want me to do it, then ya gotta say the magic words.”

A groan escapes you. “You gotta be kidding me…” You rub your face before letting your hands follow gravity, barely brushing the grass with the fingertips. “I’m only here because of you!”

The silence that follows your exasperated statement is only broken by the sound of the summer-drowsy insects and the bird chirping reproachfully at the invading people. None of its pretty protests seem to have the intended effect, and it flies off with a final trill. _Stupid bird._ _Stupid bird with its stupid-ass wings and ridiculous flying!_ For the umpteenth time, you wiggle around as well as you can, trying to find some solution to your predicament. Anything but what Sam wants.

“I admire your tenacity…but y’know what the easy solution would be,” your boyfriend smiles encouragingly.

“Sod off!”

Feigning shock at your words, his focus drifts to the horizon beyond the tree. “Such harsh words…when it _you _who’s been here for half an hour already.”

That would explain the numbness in your legs and the heat building up in your face. “Fine!”

“Then say it.”

You don’t have to look at him to know he’s smiling from ear to ear with delight of this cheap-ass victory. “Sam, would y–“

“Ah! No, ya gotta do it right!”

Gritting your teeth, you swallow the last reminder of your pride. “Oh, Falcon! My heeeero,” you wail with the dramatic flair of a middle-schooler, “please, I beg you: saaaave me!”

Silence returns while your boyfriend considers the request.

“Hmmm…didn’t really seem sincere, if ya know what I me–“

“Samuel Thomas Wilson!” Your patience had been thin and now there’s nothing left. “If you don’t get me down right this second, I swear-so-help-me you will NEVER do any heroing again!”

A shit-eating grin is plastered on his face, but at least he finally does as asked and lifts you free of the branches that held the fake wings and you stuck in the tree. It’s not elegant, but down you come, sputtering and growling.

“I told you it would be a fucked-up idea for me to fly!” you seethe, knowing full well that you’ll always be hearing for this accident.


	3. Broken Wings - 1

There are only a few things worse than Sam Wilson when he’s in a teasing mood. One is Sam feeling sad, of course; another is Sam being in a teasing mood about something he got right and you got wrong. He’ll never let you live it down. Never. Why did I let him talk me into trying a set of wings? You’re perfectly aware that hiding out in the gym is futile, let alone a tad childish, and still that’s exactly what you’re doing.

“There y’are, babe!” The warm voice that you normally love makes your body tense now. “Been lookin’ all over for ya. Why ye hidin’ here?”

“I’m not hiding.” Even if Sam’s reached you now, you still don’t look up at him. “I just needed to do som’thing…”

“Uh-huh, right…that why y’are nose-deep in a stack of mission reports rather than using the perfectly fine piece of equipment y’are straddling?”

You finally look up to have a glance and sure enough – the smug glimmer in his doe-eyes is echoed in the lopsided smirk, curving his lips in a way that could make you all hot and bothered. Not this time. One fault in your smooth defences and he’ll have you at his mercy. 

Shuffling the files together, it’s easy to busy yourself for half a moment before getting up, wincing slightly as the movement gleefully makes your sore muscles hurt. Flying into a tree: not healthy. Your time in the air had been short, ending abruptly with a (supposedly neat) loop and a very close relationship with a maple tree and its branches. All it had given you was a lot of bruises on your body, limbs and ego. But before that, for the briefest of instances, you’d felt free in a way you won’t be able to describe.

“Ya sure y’ain’t avoidin’ me?” It’s not concern you hear in your boyfriend’s voice.

You give in with a sigh. “Now, why would you think that?” 

“’cause we both know I’d find out that y’ave asked Tony to fix the wings…which means,” the now openly victorious man walks backwards before you as he explain, ”that y’are not against flyin’!”

“That’s your conclusion.” Trying to sound nonchalant, the huff you let lose betrays you. 

Problem is that he’s right, of course, which on its own is a sack full of trouble what with his ego after he got recognized outside an elementary school (it had been cute at the time, but the glamour was lost after the 17th time you had to listen to Sam telling every little detail). But no…the real problem lies in the bet you cockily had accepted before strapping those darned things on your back:

If you hadn’t ended up liking it, you’d be rid of them again and he’d never pester you about it anymore.

On the other hand, liking it would mean you’d have to learn how to really fly so he can show you “the sights”.

Doesn’t sound too bad…until you add a fear of heights to the mix. You’d never meant to fly higher than a foot or two above the grass. Nor was the intention to go fast. But one thing let to another, the hunger for speed spurring you on, because it’s your thing, and then you’d messed up the buttons when angling to slow down and land meaning the descend had become an ascend (momentarily)…and suddenly the world was upside down. Once you hung steady in the branches, it was fine. It was the split seconds before that had scared you as the tumble towards the ground had become impossibly long and you yourself had been much younger. So much younger that its the only clear memory you had of you father’s voice as he yelled no to look out, just look at him. 

“Babe?”

At least Sam has the sense to be humble when pulling you from the memories. Standing before you his contagious smile is gone, a softness replacing the boyish wildness. He knows almost all there is to know about you. Your speed, of course, your tiny family consisting of you, your mother, and her mother. He just doesn’t know how it had gotten to be so tiny.

“Honey, y’are pale ‘n shakin’…what’s going on?” Already, he’s got an arm wrapped safely around our shoulders, pulling you close so he can press a soft kiss against your forehead.

“About the wings,” you begin, “we should prob’ly talk…”


	4. Broken Wings - 2

Of course, Sam had helped you store the documents nicely away. He’d even accepted the need for making tea and walking all the way to the roof top garden. It’s so perfect, you always forget it’s on the top of a sky scraper – up here it’s just the sky above and the myriad of plants flowering with every colour imaginable, so that’s where you go to forget or remember, depending on what you need. It’s like you childhood home before…

“Before things went wrong, I lived in the countryside.” Cradling the tea, you finally begin the story without looking at your boyfriend. “My parents had met while my mother was on vacation in Austria. They’d fallen in love, and as soon as my dad was done at uni he moved over.”

Sam doesn’t say anything, he just shuffles closer so he can wrap an arm around you protectively. He knows you’ll get around to saying things the way they have to be said for it to make sense for him…and to help you too. But even if he’s quiet, you can hear his heart race as you lean against his chest. Your man’s not dumb. Whatever the details are, he’s already realized that this is a story of pain and loss, and you can’t bear to see the pity in his eyes. Instead you study the petals of a particularly vibrant sunflower.

“They lived in Delaware for a while, but once they had my big brother, they found the perfect place with apple trees and everything, and even with a little kid they kept going back to Europe to visit my grandparents.” It’s more to give yourself a break that you pause to have a sip of the still too hot tea. It burns your tongue, makes your eyes prickle. “They kept doing that even when I was born. When my little brother was. When our last family in Europe died, we’d still fly over to revisit the places…we loved it.”

Memories are coming back full of smiling faces, gorgeous mountains covered with snow, green valleys smelling of sun and goat. There’s a flicker of longing, that you haven’t allowed yourself to feel for a long time because even if it’s sweet…it’s also much too bitter.

Swallowing thickly, you continue. “My parents couldn’t always get off work at the same times, so sometimes us kids would go just with dad. It was one of those years when…” The words are gone, fallen into the steaming tea with the first tears and dissolved. “We could tell something was wrong as we flew in. Normally the plane wouldn’t be that close to the mountain tops. Tristan…little Tristan didn’t realize…he was playing with his dino toys…but I saw. I always looked out the window…”

_How can I sound so calm?_ All too many times, you’ve had to recount the events…and although you’ve later begun to skip the details it always made you stutter and search for every word. Not this time.

“How old was Tristan?” Sam has only heard the names of your brothers a few times, but there’s no hesitation.

“Four,” you sigh, “I was seven, almost eight, and Dan was fourteen already. Typical teenager with Walkman and ripped jeans and a taste for grunge.” The image of your older brother is painfully clear. He’d been your idol and as opposed to your friends’ older siblings _he_ actually adored you. “He had his headphones on when the engines…failed…it wasn’t until the wing snagged on the cliffs that he took them off.”

Somehow, the images frozen in times fade away and you see Sam’s hand take the tea cup and set it aside before he pulls you onto his lap. Again, the two of you sit in silence, breathing together. A honey bee is busy investigating the options, buzzing happily as it disappears into the trumpet shape of a rhododendron flower. It’ll go home and tell its friends about the jackpot. _Tell…yell…_

“Dad was clutching Tristan so tightly when the rest of the wing was torn off, ripped a part of the hull with it…the part where Dan sat…” Something inside your chest is hurting so badly, trying to break free through you lungs and ribs. “There was so much noise and it was so cold…but I could still hear dad yelling for me to look at him and then…” A strangled sound comes from somewhere, distracting you until you realize it’s yourself sobbing. “then…it…I tho-ought it was them f-falling…but it it was me. The p-plane got smaller-er and then…then…”

You couldn’t breathe back then either. The air simply didn’t get into your lungs, it only came out as a silent scream. Now it’s a silent wailing that robs you of oxygen until Sam’s voice breaks through the rushing in the ears. He’s counting. Counting breaths the way you’ve taught some of the others, the way he learned in therapy after his tours. It’s easier to follow his lead and trust that he’s getting it right for you. He’s got your back. Always.

Slowly and surely the man in your life calms you down again. Then he dries your eyes and kisses your cheeks gently like a butterfly, giving you the strength to finish the story: you’d been found wandering into a village and the people there managed to piece together enough of the situation to alert the authorities. You were the only survivor. A miracle, people said. Escaping with bruises, scrapes, and a few fractures and then walk through the snow-covered pass and down the mountain until you reached the bottom of the valley.

The truth is: since then, you’d never stopped moving. You love speed, because it’s one of the few moments you feel okay. It’s the way to quiet the ghosts in your mind that had kept you walking back then. You aren’t fast like Bucky or Steve, but you can keep going for just as long as they can. And when you have a goal, like you do when working as the field medic on missions, then nothing will keep you from reaching those that need help.

In the end, your curse is your gift.


	5. Leap of Faith - 1

His hands are calloused and strong, not at all matching the gentleness of each caress bestowed upon you as the anticipation builds for every minute the sound of the quinjet's engines are working. Sam's the calm before the storm, keeping your wits about you until you're in the fray and instinct is allowed to take over once more. Different instinct than his. Your boyfriend has trained for battle and missions long before life brought you to the Avengers.

"What are you thinking, princess?" Even his voice is soft, ensuring no one else on the team will hear.

"Was just rememb'ring the day we met."

It had been hell on earth. Some so-called "hostile takeover" at the research facility where you worked as a nurse then. It wasn't long before the situation had escalated, requiring more than the privately hired guards to handle it - guards who shortly after calling for assistance were beheaded, their tops placed around the edge on the machine all of this was about. _Military testing. _Your clearance was nowhere high enough that you knew what the machine did, but whatever it was must've been horrible enough to warrant some psychopaths barging in and killing people.

"Stubborn assholes," Sam reminisces, "but at least they were clear 'bout what they wanted."

"You saying I wasn't?"

The man snorts, trying to hold back a laughter. "Noo, no no no! That was clear too."

The guy is right, of course. By the time the cavalry arrived in the form of four Avengers, you had already taken it upon yourself to triage and treat any injured colleagues after overriding a few codes here and there. The bad guys had been contained (although, with the device they wanted) and were running out of oxygen in a cooling room. Apparently, that was a fact that made the bastards very intent on breaking out of there by any means necessary, so when the heroes finally arrived, you were about ready to lose your shit out of fear the would-be thieves would succeed. Sam had taken the brunt of that, meaning you had ended up giving him a full lecture peppered with all of your frustrations - frustrations that weren't lessened by his dopey smile.

The two of you sit in silence, each lost in memories that undoubtedly have a slightly different focus.

"Alright, peeps," Tony announce as if he is about to start a party, "Cap's got the word and then it's time to rock 'n roll!"

Sam's blond friend rolls his eyes jovially before getting to his feet, hands clasped around the edge of the shield. "You know the plan. Any last questions? Now's the time..."

Of course, he is met with silence.

...

The hard concrete sends shockwaves up through your feet even if you're running up the stairs. _So much for a simple plan._ You can hear Steve's efficiency through the mic wedged uncomfortably into your ear, and you know he isn't the only one because the evidence of the fly guys in the air can be witnessed every time the building shakes, sending dust raining down - that's probably mostly the two tin cans rather than your Sam, though.

Clamping your teeth around the flash drive, it's possible for you to shrug the "borrowed" lap coat off your shoulders and send it fluttering down the stairwell towards the pursuing goons. The fabric used to be a pale blue, but now it's tarnished with dust from debris and the blood of their friends - there's no way you'll be going back that way.

"Tell me," you puff into the coms once the drive is safely in your fist again, "this is a clear exit."

A new landing, a new door barred due to the lockdown the barrage outside has initiated...or maybe the breach in the lab set it off?

"Damn, that thing's tough!" Stark's complaint is probably well-founded but doesn't help you.

Stealing a glance over the railing, you barely pull your head back in time to avoid getting shot. _I need an out! Now!_ But every attempt at leaving the spiraling trap turns out futile and there are only a few turns back before you reach the very top. Two landings. One landing. Final platform with a heavier door leading to the roof. _Fuck!_

“Get that doo–“ you don’t get further before the handle is blown inwards in a pillow of flames and smoke, making this the second near hit in a very short time. “Warning next time, asshole!”

Tony (of course it was him) just laughs, “You’re welcome.”

Oh, it feels like heaven as the fresh air sweeps over you, finding a way through the fabric of your gear to cool the sweat that’s been collecting. The sky above isn’t exactly clear due to a few stray puffs of smoke, but at least the guys have drawn the blasts from the ground-to-air missile launcher further away and now you just need one of them to help you down.

It’s just that…none of them can break away.

Clint and Natasha are still inside together with Steve. Wanda and Vision are taking care of the hangar further, and neither Thor, Bruce, nor Bucky had come along on this mission because it was supposed to be so simply. _Boy, were we wrong!_ And now you’re stuck on top of a ten floor building with no way down and at least a dozen bloodthirsty villains on your tail. And you’ve run out of curses that properly express your emotions.

Peering over the ledge, you feel the cold swoop in the belly that brings out the memories you want to forget. At least your feet are firmly planted on something solid and immobile, but the dread is there already and it’s worse than the impending meeting with the guys whose research you’ve just stolen.

There’s just one thing to do. Turning, you prepare to face battle with a ferocity your role on the team doesn’t normally warrant, squaring off on the middle of the roof.

“Medics don’t fight,” Sam quips over the coms seconds before something slams into your back and then wraps a harness around your body, “now use your ride.”

It’s familiar, the acrid smell of the warm thrusters that are strapped to your back now. “Over my dead body!” Sam had talked you into trying out a wing set once.

“It will be if you don’t do it, honey.” Soft, insistent. You know he cares. “You can do it, babe, it’s just to get off that building.”

Out of the corner of the eye, you see the door begin to open once more as you turn and set off in a sprint. _I love you, Sam Wilson, but if I die, I’ll come back to haunt your sexy ass._ The tiny grains in the tar scratch under your boots, mixing with the shouts behind you – then there’s nothing but the thumping of your heart, much too loud and quick in the ears. Nothing else. Well…there’s the gaping emptiness beneath you as the safety of the building’s tangibility is gone and your stomach protests at the sickening fear.


	6. Leap of Faith - 2

_“[Y/N]!”_

Eyes closed against the wind whipping through your hair and pulling tears from your eyes as you plummet downwards.

_“Hey, [Y/N]! Kiddo!”_

The voice is soft and gentle, whispering in your ear until it somehow is the only thing you hear. And how could you not…it’s your dad’s voice and it’s just as calm and demanding as the day the plane went down. Dad. That’s it then. The wings failed, you’ve crashed and died on the hard ground after you leapt from the building’s roof and your brain just hasn’t realized yet.

_“No, you’re not dead,” the disembodied voice of your dad promises, “high on adrenalin and stuff, but you’re alive.”_

Oh. A hallucination? Then your mind kicks in, screaming at you to do something because people don’t tend to stay alive when plummeting towards the earth the way your stomach tells you you’re doing. _Live._ You need to live. There’s a life waiting full of plans and dreams and aspirations that barely have been voiced yet. There are people in that life whom you want to hold again…one of them in particular.

_“That’s good, pumpkin, life can be beautiful…but you gotta work for it right now, okay?”_

Maybe the wind has taken your ability to form a sentence with it as it cuts through your clothes in a world belonging to the living._ Does it matter? As long as the heart is willing, will dad know?_

It seems so, because he instructs you to look so far up that your back is arching, pull the knees to your chest and on his count.

_“1…”_

_“…2…”_

_“…3!”_

Kicking hard in front of you with both feet, there’s a sudden firmness under the soles of your boots. The pull that’s been dragging you down shifts, and while gravity still tugs at you it’s now fighting the direction your heading. It’s impossible not to open the eyes and watch the ground fall away beneath you.

“I did it!”

Cheers and praises dance into your ear through the tiny com-device wedged securely in place at the beginning of the mission. None of the voices are your dad’s.

…

Finishing a mission is a lot easier when the main objective has been sorted (in this case: bringing the intel to safety) mainly because Tony could bring in the big guns. The report goes on for dozens of pages, detailing every tactical manoeuvre and the reasoning behind them, most of which you’d not witnessed go down.   
You’d come back to the place when it was all over and Clint complained about a sprained ankle plus you made sure to clean a nice cut Steve had gotten before the serum could heal him with the gravel inside the wound. By the time you chose to pay attention to the surroundings, the fires were almost out in the ruins.

Groaning, you down the rest of the coffee-slash-hot-choc mix. It’s gone cold, just like your brain. “Reports are boooooooring.”

“Sure are, babe,” Sam agrees gently, coming over to rub your shoulders, “take a break…I’ll gladly distract you.”

“Oh yeah?” _Damn, that man has magic fingers._ One of his thumbs has zoned in on a particularly nasty knot of tension near the shoulder blade and you can feel it all the way to your pinky…and that’s only some of the stuff his hands are good for.

“M-hmm,” the humming confirms, “I’ve got an idea I think you might like.”

_Anything, Sam Wilson, as long as it includes you. _Obediently, you let him turn the chair and then close your eyes as he asks. Your mind is bubbling over with scenarios that never would make their way into a mission report although it would spice it up.

There’s a rustle of clothes, a slight mutter coinciding with a dull snap you can’t identify. A deep breath warns you that he’s lowered himself before you alright and your legs already begin to become pliable from the expectation of his warm hands.

“Please, o-open your eyes, babe.”

The tremor in Sam’s voice is unexpected. Gone are hot daydreams, replaced by worry until you find him (kneeling, almost as expected) before you with a tiny cushion in his hands as the resting place of a ring (not expected). Silver, a trio of little white stones, and you know beyond a doubt where you’ve seen this ring before although it had two stones when your mother wore it and one when your grandmother in Austria got it as new from the man that became her husband and your grandfather.

You have to swallow hard. “…Sam…”

“Please?” His voice almost falters. “I’ve known for a long time, been planning something much more romantic, y’know…vacation, champagne, sunset…all that shit…then…you leapt off that damn building and my heart stopped.” He’s crying silently, an undefined concoction of sadness, fear, and love pouring from those warm eyes. “I don’t wanna wait…so please, [Y/N Y/L/N]…will y–“

“Yes!” You’re crying too, and it’s okay. Everything is okay. _Life can be beautiful._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you liked it.


End file.
